A Year from Yesterday
by bookdiva
Summary: This is something I wrote awhile ago and Im just getting around to publishing it now Booth forgets to meet Bones a year from the day they left Since Im still angry with Booth  hes had it way too easy  I still wanted to post this Let me know what you think
1. I'm Waiting For You

"Good morning Seeley," Hannah said as she rolled over. I smiled over at her.

"Morning," I said sleepily with a yawn. "It sure is nice to sleep in."

She smiled coyly at me, "That's what Saturdays are for."

I tried to smile back. She seemed like she'd be content to spend the whole day in bed, but I really wasn't.

"Hey," I suggested suddenly, "how about we go for a walk? We could stop and get coffee at this great cart I know and then go to the Reflecting Pool." _Anything to get out of this apartment. _

I didn't know why, but it had been feeling less and less like home to me and more and more like a holding cell, and all day yesterday, I'd resisted the urge to just get out and go to the Reflecting Pool. Maybe if I just took Hannah there, it would cease to be _our_ place—my place with Bones. It could just be a place—a _beautiful_ place that I could share with my _beautiful_ girlfriend.

Hannah sighed.

"That's what you really want to do with your day off?" she asked with a slight huff in her voice. It bothered me that she so obviously didn't want the same, but I pushed that aside. She was the one I'd chosen. I couldn't help but think that Bones would love to go with me, but I pushed that thought aside too. That thought, along with _any _thought about Bones, was off limits. I couldn't allow myself that pleasure anymore.

"Yeah Hannah," I replied as I got up, "that's what I really want to do."

"Okay," she acquiesced. "Then how about tonight we go out somewhere nice? Then come home and…" she trailed off suggestively.

_Compromise,_ I reminded myself. _It's all about compromise. _

"Sure," I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.

We both got dressed and went out. I smiled as I took in the fresh air. It was only 7 a.m., but I was enjoying it nonetheless. We stopped and got coffee at the coffee cart, the one I tried not to think of as _our _coffee cart, and continued walking to the reflecting pool. There, on what I refused to think of as _our bench_, a woman was curled up, sound asleep. As Hannah and I walked past her, I recognized her. It was Bones.

"Bones," I gasped in astonishment and ran over to her. Her eyes fluttered open and filled with so much joy that I had to smile through my confusion. Somehow, whatever she was feeling, I felt too.

"You came," she breathed as she sat up. Her beautiful blue eyes lit up, and she stared up at me like I'd just made her complete. I'd never seen her look this happy in the seven years I've known her.

I didn't understand. Had she been expecting me? Why would she? I searched my mind trying to remember if I had asked her to get together early in the morning. Nothing. In fact, I didn't even talk to her last week, come to think of it. Guilt managed to sneak around my Bones-induced happiness.

"Seeley," Hannah said coming up behind me, "What's… oh! Temperance! Hello!" She took in Bones's appearance, which was all rumpled as though she'd spent the night on the bench. "What are you doing here?"

It seemed, for a moment, that Bones didn't hear her question. Her eyes were still locked with mine. The pure joy from a moment ago was now replaced with a terrible pain that caused my heart to ache. I didn't know where it came from, but that didn't stop me from wanting to take out whatever was causing it. Again, the emotion that crossed her face filled my heart, and pure pain was added to my already guilty conscience.

After what seemed like an eternity, she answered. "I d-don't know anymore." There were tears in her voice, and she was stuttering. Her beautiful blue eyes turned liquid from unshed tears. It was so unlike her to stutter and cry. "I should be going. I have a lot of work to catch up on from being gone yesterday. People like me shouldn't take personal days." Then she turned to leave.

_She took a personal day yesterday? Did she really spend the night here? _But I couldn't think that. There was no way that the intelligent, _logical_ Temperance Brennan would sleep outside.

I reached out and grabbed her arm. Underneath the thin material of her shirt, I could feel her bones. She was far too thin. Something wasn't right. "Wait, Bones," I said. "What were you doing here?" I asked. "How long have you been here?"

She looked up at me with such vulnerability and disappointment that I wanted to either scoop her into my arms or hang my head in shame, though I didn't understand either urge. The only thing that stopped me from acting on either of these, however, was Hannah's hand on my shoulder. Looking into my partner's eyes, I knew that she would answer me honestly—I knew that right now she couldn't help it. I also knew that it was wrong of me to take advantage of that—but I did anyways.

"I've been here since dawn yesterday. I was supposed to meet… a friend here yesterday," she said, and she sounded so ashamed. Looking down and breaking eye contact, she seemed to try to steal her voice and give it the hard, emotionless edge that she was normally so good at. She failed miserably. "I wanted to prove that I'd found the strength to believe and to risk. I guess it didn't matter to him." She paused. "This friend and I, we both went to separate ends of the globe, but we said that we'd meet here a year from the day we left. But I guess I wasn't important enough because," her voice broke, "he never showed."

I froze, or the world stopped moving, or _something. _

Separate ends of the globe? Oh damn, she was talking about me. Yesterday was the day I promised her that I'd… damn it! How could I have been such an idiot? She'd come out at dawn and waited—all day and night and into the next morning—for me, and I didn't show. I'd—I'd been with Hannah. The thought made me sick. I gripped the back of our bench to stay upright.

"Well," she said still not looking at me, "I should be going." A tear finally fell down her face, but she wiped it away fiercely. She took a deep breath, and suddenly her walls were back in place and her eyes turned back from deep pools of emotion to solid ice. "I have a lot of work to do. Enjoy your day Hannah," then she looked up at me, "Seeley." I shuddered at her use of my real name and knew that something was broken; a bitter and hallow feeling was left in the air. And then that was it. She walked away, and I couldn't move. When she was out of sight, Hannah sighed.

"That was so sad. Whoever stood Temperance up is an idiot," she said angrily. "I've never seen her cry before, have you? I can't believe someone would hurt her so bad that she would be crying, especially when all he had to do was meet her at a stupid fountain. I mean, she waited all night for the jerk. Who could do such a thing, especially to a beautiful woman like Temperance? Who could be such a—"

"Such a what, Hannah?" I spat out. Suddenly I was so angry with her, with myself, with _life_, that I couldn't take it anymore. I already knew that I was a jerk, but I'd been a jerk for the woman who was now calling me a jerk. I really didn't need to hear that. "Do you know who was supposed to meet her yesterday? Do you? It was me." I paused and shock covered Hannah's face, but I didn't care—I kept right on yelling. "I promised that I'd meet her here, a year from when we left, and I didn't. I… I didn't." I paused to get a grip over my emotions. When I spoke again, my voice was cold and detached—the same tone my partner had been aiming for earlier. "She came out here and most likely spent all day on that bench believing that I would come _because I said I would. _She always trusted that I would keep my promises. After everything I've done to her, she still trusted that I would be there. I…" my voice broke and I couldn't continue. Hannah seemed shocked, as well she should be.

"You," she began then stopped. She sighed. "Well, that makes sense, I guess. You _are _the only one who could hurt her that bad."

"Thank you, Hannah," I said sarcastically. "You're so supportive." Really, would she never understand?

_Bones would understand,_ I thought feebly. _Not that I deserve that, but Bones would understand. _

"Listen Seeley," Hannah said sounding impatient, "I think I've been more than understanding. What other woman would put up with a boyfriend who clearly has another beautiful woman in love with him? And one that he sees more that her?" She sighed. "I think I've been more than understanding, but this is the end of it. I can't take it anymore."

I was so confused. First of all, Bones was not in love with me, even if she did regret saying no to me. Second of all, what the…?

"What?" was all I was able to say.

"I think it's time that you be the understanding one," she said. I just continued to look at her, confused. I had no idea where she was going with this. Seeming to sense my confusion, she sighed. "Look, I can't take it anymore. I can see the way she looks at you, and it makes me sick. I think you need to stop working with her."

_Again_, "What!" _Working without Bones? That's not even comprehensible. _

"I have been more than understanding," she said calmly. "Besides, the average partners don't stay together more than three or four years—I google'ed it. You and Temperance have been together more than seven. Don't you think it's time to move on?"

"Look, I told you when I met you that there were two things in my life that were nonnegotiable—" I began.

"Yeah," she said. "Your son and your family. I'm not asking you to give up either. This has nothing to do with your son, and I am your family." She said this like it was the simplest thing in the world.

_She will never understand,_ I realized. And I knew that I had to stop pretending that she did—that she ever would. No one could understand what was important to me. _No one but Bones. _

"No," I said, "you're not my family. She is." Shock crossed Hannah's face. "I thought I'd made that clear."

"Excuse me?" Hannah said holding up her hand. "What the hell do you mean?"

I sighed. How could I explain this to someone on the outside?

"Look Hannah," I began. "Bones has had… a rough life. Her family abandoned her when she was little, and she has isolated herself ever since. When I met her, she was so cold, so distant. Eventually, she began to open up and bond with the team at the Jeffersonian and… with me. She formed her own little family around us. It's all she has."

"That's not true, Seeley," Hannah snapped. "Temperance has everything. She has her job, her money, her books. She has everything. What does she need you for?"

And that was a good question. Even if I knew the answer, it still made me think. Sure, I'm Bones's family, but is there something else under that?

"Look Hannah," I said, "she's a part of my life—a major part. And I'm not going to let that change." But then I thought about it. I mean, _really_ thought about it. And I realized that I _had _let that change since I'd met Hannah. I mean, I didn't speak to Bones last week at all. I didn't stop by, and I can't even remember the last time I took her out to lunch. Come to actually think about it, I think it was when I told her about Hannah. Some family I'd been. She started to protest again, but I cut her off. "Look, I'm not saying that she needs me in her life because she doesn't. The truth is that _I_ need _her_."

"So you'd be willing to risk what we have?" she asked me incredulous. "For her?"

I thought for a moment. What did Hannah and I have? Then I heard Bones's voice.

"_I wanted to prove that I'd found the strength to believe and to risk. I guess it didn't matter to him."_

Somehow, Bones had found the strength to risk. I didn't know _what_, or even _how,_ but I knew that if I was ever going to get back into her life, I'd have to risk something in return. Suddenly, I realized what I'd been missing the whole time. Hannah could never replace my Bones. So I sat down on the bench and answered her.

"Yes."

Anger clouded her eyes, and she sat up straighter.

"Then there's really nothing left to say, is there?" she whispered.

"I'm sorry," I said. And I really was. She smiled slightly.

"I know you are," she said, "but I won't be second place. That's not fair to either of us." She reached up and took off Bones's sunglasses. "Give these back to her for me, please? And tell her that I'm sorry." I understood that she wasn't really talking about the sunglasses.

"I will."

Then Hannah walked away and out of my life for good. I knew I should go back to the apartment with her and help her gather her things, but something held me back. We had a clean break—we _needed_ a clean break. And then, there was Bones. Thinking of her made me get up and walk briskly toward the street. Quickly I hailed a cab and gave the driver Bones's address.

_She had to have gone home to change before she heads to the Jeffersonian, right?_

When I reached her building, I raced up the steps and asked the doorman for entrance.

"I'm sorry, sir," he said politely, "but I can't let you in if you don't live here."

The man looked familiar. I searched my brain for his name. I couldn't help but remember that there had been a time when I'd known everyone in this building, and they had just opened the door when they saw me coming.

"Charlie," I said, finally remembering. "It's me. Seeley Booth. I'm here to see Bon—I mean Temperance Brennan."

"Seeley Booth?" Charlie looked confused. "Oh my, it is you! You'll have to forgive me; it has just been so long since I've seen you."

"Yeah," I said, "and I'm really sorry about that, but right now, I really need to go see Bones."

Charlie furrowed his brow in confusion again. "Well," he said, "I'd love to help you, but Temperance hasn't lived here since she left a year ago. I guess she's not back from wherever it is that she went. Maybe you could try back in a few days." He smiled at me like he hoped that he'd helped. I didn't know what to say, so I thanked him and said I would try back in a few days.

As I walked away, I couldn't help but wonder where she was. I figured I'd just head to the Jeffersonian.


	2. It Goes On?

Brennan's POV

Dr. Temperance Brennan was a lot of things, but irrationally emotional was not one of them. So, of course, she would go straight to work from the park. She wouldn't waste any more time on pointless emotions than she already had.

Head held high, she strode into the Jeffersonian with more grace than she had in months. Her walls, though still shaky, were back up and in the process of repair. (Metaphorically speaking, of course.) She wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

"Angela, how is the facial reconstruction for the Green Forest victim coming?"

Angela turned, startled at her friend's appearance.

"I thought you were taking a few days off," she said with a puzzled frown. "What are you doing back already?"

"My endeavors did not turn out the way I had hoped," Brennan stated with stiff professionalism. Angela walked toward her and started to ask her if she was okay, but Brennan held up a hand. "The facial reconstruction, Angela."

Angela looked like she wanted to argue, but she seemed to realize that now wasn't the time to press the anthropologist, so she brought Brennan to her office.

"The victim's name is Jessica Bentley. She was reported missing by her social worker two weeks ago when he turned up for a surprise visit, and her foster parents had no idea where she was." She paused. "I guess we know now."

Brennan just nodded stiffly. "Thank you. I will be in my office. Please do not disturb me." With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into her office leaving Angela worried.

Once inside her office, Brennan phoned Cam.

"Dr. Saroyan," she answered.

"This is Dr. Brennan," Brennan stated. She didn't waste any time. "I am just calling to inform you that I am back and will not need another personal day."

"W—um, okay," Cam replied. "Any particular reason?"

"No," Brennan answered curtly. "I was also calling to ask that you inform Agent Booth that we have an identity on the victim. Her name is Jessica—"

"With all due respect, Dr. Brennan," Cam interrupted her. "You can tell him that yourself."

_Why isn't she just telling him that herself? _she wondered.

"With all due respect, Dr. Saroyan," Dr. Brennan repeated, "I cannot. Besides, my efforts are far more useful in the lab at this point, and I simply don't have the time to waste on interpersonal affairs. I have emailed you the file, so please get that to Agent Booth as soon as possible. If you have need of me for anything else, I will be on the platform examining the bones." Then she slammed the phone down.

Letting out a shaky sigh, Brennan stood and headed to the forensic platform, struggling to put the events of the past 24 hours out of her mind.

Cam's POV

Cam stared at the phone in her hands, not entirely sure what had just happened. It was obvious by Brennan's cold tone and indifferent manner that she and Booth had had a fight. Something had broken, and Cam was worried that it wouldn't be fixable.

_Okay, new top To-Do item: call Booth and make him fix things. _

She wasn't sure when fixing things between Dr. Brennan and Booth had become her job, but it was necessary, and she loved them both, so she picked up her phone.

"Bones," he answered on the first ring. "Look, you have to know that I didn't mean to leave you out there all night! I just didn't remember, and you can't expect me to—"

"Seeley," Cam interrupted him in confusion, "what the hell did you do?"

"Cam?" Booth sounded confused. "Why are you calling from Bones's phone?"

"I'm calling from the _Jeffersonian_ because your _partner_ is absolutely livid—with _you_, or _something you did_—Booth_,_" Cam replied struggling not to panic. Everything _had _to work out. She couldn't afford to have Dr. Brennan running off to some other continent, again. "Care to explain?"

On the other side of the phone, Booth sighed.

"I wish I could," he said softly, "but I think I've messed up enough already. Is… is Bones there?"

Now Cam was sighing.

"Yeah, she's here. I don't know what you did," she said, cutting off what Booth had been about to say, "and I don't really care. It's probably far too complicated, and I'm just far too tired of this mess. All I know is that you'd better hurry to fix it. If this is as bad as I think it is, you're lucky she hasn't turned in her resignation letter yet."

It was silent for a whole minute before Booth finally spoke. "Thank you, Camille."

Cam smiled at the predictable ritual. "Don't call me Camille, Seeley."

He chuckled as he hung up the phone, but it was a hallow sound.

One thing was certain: something had broken between the partners. Cam just hoped that it wasn't too late for Booth to fix it.

Booth's POV

When Hannah left, Booth didn't really feel anything. In fact, he felt lighter than he had in months. So, when his phone rang a few minutes later with the Jeffersonian Caller ID, it never occurred to him that it could be anyone but his partner.

"Bones," he answered on the first ring. "Look, you have to know that I didn't mean to leave you out there all night! I just didn't remember, and-"

"Seeley," Cam interrupted him, "what the hell did you do?"

_Cam? What the—_

"Cam?" Booth asked, confused. He looked down briefly at the phone in his hands. "Why are you calling from Bones's phone?"

"I'm calling from the _Jeffersonian_ because your _partner_ is livid with you, or something, _Agent Booth,_" Cam replied scathingly. "Care to explain?"

Care to explain? Did he CARE TO EXPLAIN? No, not really. Bones would never forgive him if he made her look weak or sentimental to her colleagues / friends, so he just sighed.

"I wish I could," he said softly, "but I think I've messed up enough already. Is… is Bones there?"

Cam exhaled on the other side of the line, and it was silent for a moment.

"Yeah, she's here."

He sighed in relief.

"I don't know what you did," she said, cutting off what Booth had been about to say, "and I don't really care. I just know that you'd better hurry to fix it." She sighed and her voice dropped to a whisper. "If this is as bad as I think it is, you're lucky she hasn't turned in her resignation letter yet."

It was silent for a whole minute before Booth finally spoke. "Thank you, Camille."

Cam smiled at the predictable ritual. "Don't call me Camille, Seeley."

He chuckled as he hung up the phone, but it was a hallow sound. No amount of humor could fix the broken feeling in his heart.


	3. Too Little, Too Late?

Brennan's POV

As far as Temperance Brennan was concerned, it was too late. Too late to fix things; too late to prevent her walls from going back up; too late to prevent the loss of Bones. Fortunately for everyone involved, however, there were instances—however rare—when Temperance Brennan was wrong.

No matter what angle she took, nothing was fitting into place. There was no way the girl could have sustained the injuries she had without dying, and yet each wound was clearly antemortem, and yet none were defensive wounds. It was as if she had… taken the beating with an ease Temperance knew all too well.

Straightening her spine, Dr. Temperance Brennan took a step back, both metaphorically as well as literally, and sighed. A different perspective, that's what she needed. But how?

Realizing she wouldn't get anything done in the bone room, she headed back to her office and began to pace.

_But where is the beginning? What would Booth do?_

Much as she detested the thought, it was the way she needed to be thinking. After much pacing, she decided it would be best to start at the beginning, and without thinking it over too much more, she reached for her jacket and shut the door to her office, careful to leave the light on. Most of her colleagues were in their offices, allowing her to slip out the door with ease.

Jessica Bentley deserved answers. Jessica Bentley deserved justice. Jessica Bentley deserved more than Temperance Brennan could give her, but she'd give the girl all she could. And while she knew that it would never be enough, she realized that helping Jessica Bentley was the only way to rid herself of her sudden, emotional attachment.

Angela's POV

She was worried. No, worried didn't even begin to cover it. The moment she'd discovered the girl's story, she knew it was going to be hard on Brennan. On top of that, something had clearly happened to Brennan yesterday. Even though Brennan had been back for a few months, it had been a year since everyone had left, a year since everything had been…normal.

_Come to think of it_, she realized,_ it was _exactly_ a year… yesterday. Oh shit. Booth…_

Angela stood quickly and walked toward her friend's office. The light was on, but the door was shut. She knocked quietly.

"Bren, can I come in?"

There was no response.

"Sweetie? I know…" she trailed off. What could she say that could possibly make any difference? "I know. Can I come in?"

Again, there was no response, so Angela tried the door and found it to be unlocked. Cautiously, she peeked her head around the corner, fully prepared to find her friend engrossing herself in her work. Surprisingly, that was not the sight that greeted her.

The office was softly lit and empty. No Brennan.

"Where could she have gone?" Angela wondered aloud. Maybe she'd gone home… but for some reason, that didn't sit right with Angela.

Angela walked in and softly shut the door quietly behind her. She quickly strode over to Brennan's desk, looking for any clue as to where Bren could be.

Glancing around the desk, Angela realized that she'd never seen Brennan's usually tidy and efficient workspace be so messy and disorganized. There was no way she could go through it without being caught, so she looked up at the computer screen. It was open to Google Maps.

An address search for a Linda and John Granger was still in the search box.

_Linda and John Granger… Linda and John Granger… _Why were those names so familiar? Where had she seen them before? _Linda and John Granger… Wait! Granger! _

Brennan was going to Jessica's foster parent's home. Alone.

"Angela!?"

Angela's head shot up. There, in the doorway, was the last person she wanted to see, and yet the very person she now needed most.

Booth's POV

After hanging up with Cam, Booth didn't know what to do. How could he possibly fix this?

_Maybe it would be best to give her a little space… Let her see that she's not a rebound, and I'm serious about this. _

It sounded good in his head, but his heart didn't quite agree. There was nothing for him at his apartment, and no reason to go to a bar at, he glanced down at his watch, four-thirty. It would be dark soon enough, and yet even with the events of the day, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.

_Work it is, then, _he thought wryly as he looked up. He had unknowingly driven to the FBI offices. He got out of the car and ascended the floors to his office. Surprised faces greeted him everywhere he looked. Was it really so surprising that he'd come in on his day off? There had been a time when he hadn't really taken days off… because _she _hadn't taken days off, and unless Parker was around….

Walking past a hanging mirror, he stopped short. Okay, so maybe it wasn't entirely the day off thing. He was in sweat pants and a faded old t-shirt, and he looked like… well, hell. He looked like hell.

_Great,_ he thought was he strode quickly into his office. It took him a minute to realize the door had been open and the lights were on. He blinked in surprise, then again when he saw Dr. Lance Sweets sitting behind his desk.

"What the hell are you doing in here, Sweets?" he asked harshly.

Sweets jumped and looked up.

"Agent Booth!" Sweets exclaimed, quickly rising from the chair and gathering up his files. "This is a surprise! What are you doing in? I thought today was your day off."

"It was," Booth said tensely.

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing you're here," Sweets said, looking down at the file in his hands. "We've got a new case," he continued, handing the file to Booth. "And it's going to be a tough one… for Dr. Brennan."

Booth immediately sent a questioning glance up at Sweets before opening the file.

_A girl,_ was his first thought. He glanced up at Sweets, but his answering stare clearly said there was more.

Reading further down the file, one line stood out to him.

_Reported missing by social worker when child was missing at a surprise visit—foster parents Linda and John Granger failed to report the victim missing. _

_A foster child? Oh, God… Bones. _

"I just spoke with Dr. Saroyan on the phone. She said the victim was badly beaten, but that was not the cause of death. Dr. Brennan is still looking for the COD," Sweets' voice cut through his hazy thoughts.

"Yeah, Sweets, um listen," Booth began slowly. "I'm gunna, um, head over to the Jeffersonian and see what they've, um, found."

Without waiting for a response, Booth turned and strode out of the building, into his car, and before he even registered what was happening, he was walking into the Jeffersonian.

It was eerily quiet, and yet it was too early for anyone to have gone home.

Not thinking anything more of it, he walked a well-known path through the seemingly deserted lab to her office. The light was on, but the door was shut. He could see her shadowed outline bent over her desk, probably throwing herself into this case.

This wouldn't be easy, but somehow… somehow, he'd show her that he was always there for her. No matter what.

He quietly opened the door, but Bones wasn't behind her desk.

"Angela!?"


	4. Blast From The Past

Booth's POV

Booth started at the unexpected face looking up at him, lit up by the glare from Bones' computer screen.

"What are you doing in Bones' office?" he asked her, his brows furrowing in confusion. Then he shook his head. "Never mind, do you know where she is? I just talked to Sweets, and I need to talk to her before she does anything—"

"—dangerous?" Angela finished for him.

That hadn't been what he was going to say, and he opened his mouth to tell Angela this, but she held up her hand and cut him off.

"Well, apparently we're both too late."

Booth felt his heart drop all the way to his toes.

"Wh—what do you mean _'too late'_?" he forced out.

"I mean," Angela said, her sharp gaze like a knife to his heart, "that Bren is on her way to the victim's foster parent's home, and for some reason, I really don't have a good feeling about it."

Brennan's POV

There was no point to this, that much was certain. No one was answering the door. Feeling rather stupid for coming all this way for nothing, she turned away to leave. Suddenly, the movement of a curtain caught her notice, and she saw a pair of eyes watching her from inside. Crossing over to the window, she leaned down to eye level with the child and smiled slightly. When he didn't respond, she motioned toward the door. At this, he shook his head.

She smiled at him once again, trying to seem calm and unfrightening. His little eyes widened and he glanced frantically behind him, then he backed away from the window.

Brennan let out a long breath and straightened up. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a dead bolt turning and a door creaking open.

The same pair of eyes peeked out the door, but the little boy didn't say anything.

"Hello," Brennan said softly. When he didn't respond, she said, "My name is Bones," she tried not to choke over the name.

The little boy's nose wrinkled and he spoke for the first time.

"That's a funny name."

She couldn't help the tiny giggle that escaped her lips.

"Yes it is," She smiled, but struggled with a sudden, irrational urge to break into tears. "What's your name?"

The little boy ignored her question, but stepped out onto the porch.

Brennan's eyes widened, but otherwise nothing else betrayed her reaction.

"My partner gave me the nickname," she said while her practiced eye scanned the boy. While there were no visible bruises or signs of abuse, she'd seen this too many times—experienced it too many times.

The boy's gait was off—not quite a limp—something only her expert gaze could discern. She knew that, beneath carefully chosen clothing, the boy had to have scars and bruises. But in order to be certain, she'd have to assess the bruising up close.

"You see," she said, once again leaning down to his level, "my partner is an FBI agent."

The boys eyes widen at once.

"Really?!" he exclaims in wonder.

"Yes," she smiles, reaching out and sliding the arm of his long sleeved shirt up his arm. "He is the best shot in the FBI. He never misses."

The boy didn't even seem to notice that she was now assessing the ugly splattering of bruises and contusions that colored his arm.

"Is he like Captain America?" he asked. "Jessica took me to see Captain America in a th—th—the—theee—theeeeat—tt—er…"

"Jessica took you?" Brennan asked with a casualness she didn't feel. The boy's oldest injuries weren't more than two weeks old. Right around the time Jessica went missing. The lack of defensive wounds on the girl was beginning to make sense. She'd taken the beatings for this little boy, who couldn't be more than five years old.

He nodded and his eyes grew sad.

"She's not here anymore," he said, tears welling in his dark brown eyes. "She—she said I had to be a good boy. Be strong. She said she'd come back."

"Do you know where she was going?"

He just shook his head and hesitantly reached out for her. As she wrapped his tiny body in her arms, he began to cry—silently at first, then louder.

Out of nowhere, a voice shouted, "What did you do this time, boy?"

The child jumped out of her embrace, his panicked gaze darting all around.

A large, oily-skinned woman lumbered out onto the porch with a wooden spoon. Her long, stringy black hair was too thin to cover her large head completely, and her baggy pants were torn and battered-looking.

The large woman started when she saw Brennan's professionally dressed formed crouched on her porch.

"Who the hell are you?" she asked, grabbing the boy's arm and yanking him towards her roughly.

Her glare hardened her face and her… uncomely features made her look over fifty. However, with a quick examination that came out of habit, Brennan could see that she was in her mid to late twenties. A momentary pang of sympathy for the hard life the woman must have endured vanished when she pushed the boy towards the house and he slammed his head against the door frame.

"Don't hurt him," Brennan said with a calm that belied the fury raging inside of her. "My name is Dr. Temperance Brennan, from the Jeffersonian. I work with the FBI, and—"

"The FBI!" the woman screeched. There was a curse from inside the house and loud footsteps got closer.

"What the hell's going on, Martha?" a deep voice slurred from the darkened hallway behind the door.

The voice sent shivers of recognition through Brennan, and it stirred a foggy memory deep in the recesses of her mind. It left her feeling startled and uneasy.

"What about the FBI?" the voice asked as he lumbered out into the faint light of the evening on the porch.

Immediately, Brennan recognized him. He was older, and his hair had thinned out even more. The woman was not the same one from her memories, but it was him. It had been almost two decades since she'd seen him, but she suddenly felt sixteen years old again.

"Well, well, well," he rasped, his eyes running over Brennan. "What do we have here?"


End file.
